know why. Maybe it was the way he’d spoken to her earlier? He wanted to put that right. Hated being at odds with her.
‘I’m sorry about how rude I was to you at the beginning of surgery.’
She glanced at him. Gave a brief smile. ‘It’s okay. I was being nosy and it wasn’t very professional of me.’
‘Not nosy at all. It’s just... I wanted to be the one to tell you about Rachel.’
‘No one was gossiping about you.’
‘I know. It’s just...she’s my daughter and I’m very protective of her.’
Ellie turned to look at him. ‘Your daughter?’
‘Yes.’
She laughed. ‘I thought she was your—’ She stopped speaking, blushed and grabbed some paper towels to dry her hands with. ‘How old is she?’
‘Six. Going on sixty.’
Ellie smiled and pulled off her cap. ‘I’d love to meet her one day.’
‘She has Asperger’s,’ he blurted out, not sure why he was explaining, but it was out now. However, Rachel having Asperger’s was only one part of who she was—he shouldn’t have labelled her as if that was all she was. ‘And she’s sweet and kind. And many other wonderful things besides.’
Ellie smiled. ‘She sounds lovely.’
* * *
The rest of the day had passed almost in a blur. Doing half-hourly obs on the gastroschisis baby... Running around after the others... She hadn’t got to see Logan at all after they’d done a consult in A&E. She’d wanted to talk to him more, after her little mistake about who Rachel was, but she’d ended up going home without seeing him again.
His daughter! Not his wife, or partner, or whatever she’d suspected her to be. But that still meant there was a mother to his child. Where was she? How come he didn’t meet his partner for lunch?
She could be busy. Working hard.
I don’t even know what she does. She could be a high-flying surgeon like Logan.
Of course she would be. Logan liked successful people. He’d been surrounded by them his entire life. Both his parents were doctors, he had an uncle who practised law, and a cousin who had created his first app aged just sixteen and was probably a multi-millionaire by now.
I’m happy for him.
She forced a smile to her face, telling herself this was true, but she was having a hard time with it. A small, selfish part of her had wanted him to be stuck in some kind of limbo, too. Her life had been ripped apart and now she was starting again—why wasn’t he? She felt so far behind everyone else now. Constantly playing catch-up.
But why did she constantly give herself a hard time? Was it because everything she tried failed? Her relationship with Logan had collapsed out of nowhere. Being a mother had ended tragically. Her marriage to Daniel had collapsed too. Her business had failed.
But now she was trying to be a doctor, and there was no way she was going to fail at that!
Somehow, and without remembering climbing the stairs, she found herself in the doorway to Samuel’s bedroom. Everything was as she’d left it. In limbo. Half done. Two of the walls still needed painting. The crib was still in its flat-pack. A lonely teddy bear sat in the windowsill, waiting to be loved.
It all just looked so...sad.
But what was the point in finishing?
Ellie closed the door and went back downstairs to make herself some dinner. She’d barely had time to eat today, what with the surgery, and then rounds, and then she and Logan had been called down to A&E to assess a patient who might have been going into early labour. Thankfully, she hadn’t. The maternity unit had managed to stop her contractions with tocolytics and Ellie had got to inject her with steroids to help with maturing the baby’s lungs, just in case.
It had felt good today to be hands-on—first in surgery, then doing obs during rounds, and then later with that emergency patient. She finally felt as if she was moving forward—that she was achieving something. And Logan was actually a very good teacher.
She remembered how he’d drilled her on the way back up in the lift.
‘Why do we inject with corticosteroids?’
‘It helps the baby’s lungs mature.’
‘What else?’
‘Brain function.’
‘What would happen if we didn’t?’
‘An early delivery would mean the baby might be more likely to suffer respiratory distress syndrome or other complications.’
‘Side effects of giving steroids?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Studies have shown that there are no adverse effects on the baby, but if more than one course is given studies do show that some babies can be a little smaller, though there are no long-term consequences. How far apart do we give the injections?’
‘Twenty-four hours.’
Standing in that closed confined space with him had made her realise how her body still reacted to him. It was as if it remembered. As if it wanted to feel him against her once again. It had been a terrifying and delicious feeling all at once.
She liked it that he drilled her with questions—even over some of the simpler things they did. He was being thorough, making sure she understood the basics—because if you didn’t understand the reasoning behind those, how could you understand the more complicated issues? And his questions took her thoughts away from how it had felt to hold him. To kiss him. To have him kiss her back...
She liked being tested. Liked getting the answers right. It felt good. And distractions were helpful.
Downstairs, as her ready meal of lasagne cooked in the microwave, she picked up her book on neonatal medicine and began reading from where she’d stopped at breakfast that morning.
She was happy that Logan had a daughter. That he had a happy, healthy child. He was lucky to have someone to hold in his arms.
She missed that. Being able to hold someone. To squeeze them tight, love them, knowing that they loved you back just as much.
He was lucky.
Very lucky indeed.
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